3800
by PEW-PEW-MEXICANO
Summary: "Thirty-eight dollars! You killed her for 38 dollars!"


**Something that actually **_**isn't**_** a songfic and isn't in Tori's pov, imagine that XD. I've been reading **_**Pride and Prejudice and Zombies**_** so the name is highly intended to be punny. XD Also this is probably my last update for the summer :/ sorry. **

JADES POV

Judge Harrison heaved a heavy sigh and addressed the felon in his court room. "Jarvis Wickham, you have been found guilty be an honorable jury in the state of California. You have commented a crime of capital offence and as such it is only fair that you receive capital punishment."

The steely eyed man looked about the solemn faces of the loved ones in the room, without any hint of regret. He may not be boastful of what he did, but he wasn't ashamed of it either.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Questioned that judge.

"What can I say? The bitch is dead, nothing more _**I**_can do about it." Jarvis replied with no emotion in his rancid voice.

With a disgruntled sigh Judge Harrison gave an undeserved reply. "You will control yourself and show _some_ form of respect to your victim's family."

"Well _of course_ most _honorable_ Judge," retorted Jarvis.

Sighing once again the judge administered his attention back unto the court, addressing them in his next regard. "Well if the accused has nothing more to say on his actions than floor will be all yours Mrs. Vega."

I stood up and went to the podium on the plaintiff's side while Jarvis Wickham was put into the witness stand so I could look at him as I gave my statement.

"Hello, Jarvis," I greeted him.

"Jade," he responded with a smirk on his face.

I grimaced, how dare _he_ call me by first name. I vibrated with rage as the man who took my everything, talked to me as if I was his _friend_, as if I didn't want him to suffer in the deepest pits of hell!

'Take a deep breath Jade, you can handle this.' I told myself.

Taking a deep and well needed breath I continued. "Thirty-eight dollars. To people well off or rather wealthy it doesn't seem like much, but to a family that starves, or a homeless man on a street, it would be everything."

I glanced around the court room, directing my words to the people in the room.

"What can _you_ buy with 38 dollars? The new book you've been dying to read? Some food for the week? Perhaps some sugary treat you desperately crave?"

I look down at the paper I had this all written on, though I don't need to. I've practiced this moment for weeks.

"It keeps me up at night. Wondering what one can buy with 38 dollars. Wondering why I have to fight to get out of bed every morning. Why it is impossible hard to walk down the street outside my house, or go to my favorite coffee shop. To most this would be a stupid and worthless thing to do, but to me it unlocks the mystery to why my life is now in shamble. And many people ask _why_ I inquire on such a specific amount of money"

Another deep breath 'you can do this' a tiny voice whispers in the back of my head.

"The answer to this question is very obvious, _you_ Mr. Wickham, killed my wife for the thirty-eight dollars she carried in her pocket. You dragged her into an alley and put a knife to her throat demanding her wallet. And even after she had done what you asked you still thrusted the knife into her abdomen."

I stopped as tears sprang to my eyes at the recognition of what happened to her left my lips. 'I can't do this,' I thought 'yes you can,' was whispered from the back of my head. I opened my mouth to continue but was cut off by the _monster_.

"_Excuse me_, Mrs. Vega. I thought the bitchy _dyke_ would have had more on her," He sneered.

Angered bubbled in me as the crowd let out murmurs of discontent. The bailiff saw my animosity growing and began to approach me. Judge Harrison was livid in his penance.

"You _will_ hold your tongue Mr. Wickham! Or I will have you removed and you will never see the light of day again," He bellowed, his face turning a little red.

By this point the bailiff had reached me and was about to escort me out when I stopped him. 'I can't let him off so easy' I thought. 'He _murdered_ her; the least he can do is hear my grief.'

"I'm fine," I told him pulling my arm away. "It's fine, he's right," I directed towards the judge. He banged his mallet, quieting the rest of the court room. Jarvis lost the slight smirk he had on his face and sat up, he wasn't expecting me to agree with him. But then again, he probably only said it to try to piss me off enough to leave.

"I hated that about her, the fact that she _always_ carried 38 dollars with her. She also had 94 cent in her pocket, but you didn't care about that. You see she had this thing…" I stopped and let out a humorless laugh. 'God I miss her.'

"She had this _theory_ about 38 dollars being the perfect number to carry, the same with 94 cent. Something about it being the most amicable amount, because it was one of every bill under 50 dollars. Anything above that and she would just use her credit card." I offered the court a small, sad, smile.

"Wow, _very_ touching story there, really wished I had grabbed that 94 cent now." Jarvis's heinous voice cut across the court room. The judge just let out a heavy sigh, beyond the point of trying to rebuttal him.

"You don't know who you killed Jarvis." I snapped at him. "She was the kindest, sweetest person I have ever known! She was determined, and strong minded. She suffered through years of hateful remarks by insolent, arrogant fools. But she made it, _we_ made it, afterall of the _names_ and the _looks_, hell we even had to go to Vermont just to get married. And then some self-righteous asshole came along and decided to _mug_ her." A single tear escaped and I stopped to wipe it away.

Expecting some sort of taunt from Jarvis I looked up at him. I was shocked to see that his lips remained sealed and that his face was set into a solemn expression. Trying to get back on track I returned to reading from the paper that I unknowingly had crumpled in my hands.

"When….when you…took her, we were on the phone. I was just returning from the premiere of my newest play in New York. I had just landed at LAX and she was leaving our apartment to come and get me. She...uh. She wanted to talk about having a kid; we'd talked about the idea of it before, but not about when. I told her I wasn't ready for but she wanted a child so badly. She was about to argue her point when the line went dead. Turns out she dropped it when you grabbed her and you smashed it. To think that, have you not intervened, that the conversation would have continued. I would have probably given in to her, I usually do…did. To think that we could have had had a kid by now-." I had to stop. Tears were flowing out more numerous now; I wiped my eyes willing them to stop.

Mr. Wickham hung his head and released a mournful sigh, "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"No!" I exclaimed shocking everyone in the room. "You don't _get_ to be sorry! You don't _get_ to feel regret or remorse!"

I was breathing heavily and everyone stayed silent, too shocked to say anything. "Thirty-eight dollars! You killed her for 38 dollars! And what did you do with the money? Did you buy food for your children, or medicine for a dying relative? NO! You bought a new toothbrush, a pack of beer, and some cough drops! My lover was _murdered_ over a toothbrush, beer, and cough drops!"

"Please," he pleaded.

"Perhaps the world's most outstanding person crossed you on the sidewalk. You did not say 'hello' or compliment her, or even take into account what was being said in the conversation she was in. No, you put a knife in her gut and robbed her. You robbed her of her money, her career, her _life_. She would have been famous, had a family, she had her whole life ahead of her and you robbed her of it!"

I stopped and took a few breaths. "Jarvis Wickham you have stolen from the world a friend, a lover, a daughter, a would-have-been mother. What you did was unacceptable, unexplainable and you are going to die for it. I can only hope that you burn in the deepest pits of hell once you are gone."

I turned from the podium and walked out the doors. I could never get her back. I would never wake up to her smiling face; never have a kid with her. But I _would_ go on, and I _would_ get better.

"I love you, Tori," I whispered as I left the court house.


End file.
